Thursday, December 31, 2009

Horror Film Checklist

Listen. I don't think I'm the only one who is bugged by the chicks and dudes in horror films. The ones that die for no reason except for their own stupidity.

SO, here's a checklist for anyone who's ever screamed at the television during such a film for reasons other than terror - namely anger, frustration, disbelief, and...anger.

1) Don't disregard the warnings of the locals. They live there. If they tell you "we've heard screams in the night from that's not a good place to stay", then don't stay there. Thank them and leave. Go home. It's simple: vacations aren't fun if you're being hacked to death, m'kay?

2) Don't go anywhere where cell phones don't work. I mean, just don't. Especially in the dark. "No service" means no service. By the way, climbing further into the dark and the heights is a bad idea. If you think about doing this, to get better service for your cell phone, remind yourself of two things: it's dark, and it's scary. Go back.

3) Stay together. If someone says "I'm going to go have a look around", slap them upside the head. Usually this happens after someone has already been killed, and you've seen their maimed and/or dismembered body. Stay together.

4) Stay where the lights are. If there are no lights except candles and lanterns, stay where the candles and lanterns are. Don't run outside to get away. They're always waiting outside.

5) Don't go down that dark hallway. Especially if the music changes. If the music becomes intense and scary, shut the door and back away. The hallway is scary. The basement is scary. Don't keep walking. Don't say "hey guys? Is anyone there?" Just don't do it!

6) Kick off the heels, for crying out loud. You can run better without them, and they're not as valuable as your life. If you can use them as a missile against the assailant, that's even better. However, if your aim is bad, just kick them off and run. TOWARD other people. Not away from them. I can't stress this enough.

7) Don't wear frickin' heels on a vacation. Who ARE you??

8) Shoot first, say you're not scared second. Don't take the time to say "I ain't afraid of you" before killing the guy. Doing such a thing would provide him with the time he needs to, say, kill you first. Kill him first, and then dance on his body.

9) Shoot him again. Don't just shoot once, twice, or three times, and then go to roll him over to make sure he is dead. Doing this usually brings about many scenarios, most of which end with him still being alive and either stabbing or shooting you. Greatest advice of all: shoot him multiple times. In the head if you can. In the hands and feet if you're still not sure. And then, don't go over to where he can reach you. Run away.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Plastic Bags Could Still Be Complimentary.

It bugs me that I have to pay for plastic bags in grocery stores. I mean, groceries are expensive. Food is expensive. Where does the food come from? The grocery store. Do they not think I am paying them enough without having to throw in the extra bit for plastic bags?

Their excuse is that it's "saving the environment"'s not really.

Guess what percent plastic bags make up of the "waste stream".

I think grocery stores should say "we're milking this environment thing for all it's got, and squeezing just that much more money out of our customers. We like money, people, and getting an extra ten cents per bag, with all the customers going through here...score!"

I'd commend their honesty.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009


I have OCD.

I MUST have a clean house for Christmas. MUST. It can't be dirty.


Today, as I'm obsessively scrubbing down my bathroom, I realize, yet again...

Boys bug me.


They have a HOSE, people. Can they not aim with more precision?!??

Why is it that every time I scrub the toilet/floor around the toilet/walls/baseboard that the wipe comes away yellow? How can this be? They have a HOSE!

Boys are gross.

And that bugs me.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Sarah Bugs Me (not really)

Because she's so cute and cuddly, and because she's mopped all her floors and written this:

Floors are vacuumed and washed, fridge is clean, laundry is done, kitchen cupboards are all washed and sparkly, and all the dishes are washed dried and put away! Phew! Tomorrow, baking, Wednesday, shopping (one LAST time before Christmas!) and Thursday, NOTHING!

She bugs me because she is miles and miles and MILES ahead of me. I still have to wash the kitchen floor and clean out my baking cupboard and do the laundry and wrap the presents and bake and shop and ...

But, she's awfully cute and cuddly. And I guess I'll have to put up with her fantasticisms because I love her and I'm proud of her.

So, she doesn't bug me TOO much.

But please, someone tell me they are still scrambling to get it all done, too!!

(And Sarah, don't worry, I truly think you're wonderful. And cute. And cuddly. And I want to be like you when I grow up.)


I have a confession to make.

We have a dancing, singing Santa Claus in our house. He is about five feet tall, and he has one of those flapping lips (you know, the kind that makes me want to break glass. Oh, you didn't know? Well, now you do. Isn't it wonderful, learning new things?).

When he sings, he swings his hips side to side and his arms flap back and forth (like he's trying to feel you up - I swear the thing has done it to me before. Do. not. like.).

He has beady eyes and a flat head.

And I want to drop-kick him.

Every time he is set up - that first time I see him, standing all smug in the corner, thinking he's loved by all - I want to drop-kick him right in his sassy face.

I don't like Santa Claus. Mostly because I don't like all the hype and the lies and the blagh* about Santa Claus. That 5' hip-swinging, lip-flapping dummy in the corner represents pretty much everything I dislike about the Christmas season - consumerism, lies, the "reason" for being "good" of these days I might not be able to stop myself.

Horrified bystanders will watch with shock as I pwn that sucker.

Merry Christmas.

* in other words, stuff that makes my brain tired, sore, and angry.


If anyone marries, knows or becomes a lawyer disregard my rant because I am not speaking of you. Unless of course you put legal practices before human compassion. Then this is FOR YOU.
I got a curtiasy call from the lawyers office that they need more post dated cheques for 2010. When I hear this, my blood boils. It's like buying a car and then having the car die, and not being able to repair it so the car is shipped off to the wreckers, but MONEY IS OWED on the car.
This is how I feel when I write cheques and send the money off. I am paying for nothing. I am paying because I put my trust in something that wasn't God. I am paying because I wanted to win, but instead I have 5 or 6 more years of paying this bill because I can't afford to pay it off faster. This lawyer did nothing for me. In fact, because of this lawyer Trenton was exposed to another life and just as he was getting used to the idea the life was snatched away. I'm not saying that isn't good, I'm saying that this lawyer didn't do it. My husband and I did this. Prayers from my family did this. Years of stress and tears is my investment. Lawyers do nothing except go through the motions. Literaly. Paying for nothing bugs me.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009


Maybe it's the fact that it's winter now, which seems to make most Canadians apply the "stupid-head" side of their brain while behind the wheel. (Another post entirely.)

Maybe it's the fact that most people are generally narcissistic and ego-centric.

Maybe it was entirely innocent. (As in my case, which follows.) Maybe they had a valid reason.

Whatever the reason, someone in town today parked in two parking places. The back end of his car was in one space, and the front end was in another.

This drives me crazy for many reasons.

!) There are white lines to designate where your vehicle should park. White lines. They TELL YOU. These lines were not covered with snow; you can see them quite clearly.
@) A lot of people actually park properly, which means there are EXAMPLES right in front of your face. "See? This is how you should park."
#) I'm pretty sure most driving instructors tell you the obvious. "Yea, park between the lines."
$) SOME vehicles cannot fit within the white lines marking a single space. That's okay. It's not their fault they're big. They were made that way. Don't make fun of them!

But MOST vehicles can fit just fine.

But the biggest reason it bugs me:

^) When I park behind these badly-parked people, I'm in two spaces too. And then guess what happens?

The original guy drives away.

And THEN guess what happens?

I look like the idiot.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Legal Mumbo-Jumbo.

It bugs me.

I drove innocently down my road one night in February almost three years ago. Some old guy, not paying attention, turned right onto the road on which I was travelling. Instead of turning into his own lane, he turned into MY lane and hit me, head on.

It messed up my life.

Sleepless nights. Lots of pain. Ongoing pain in the neck, literally. Grouchiness, from the pain. Feeling like a failure, because I couldn't do my ordinary work.

What bugs me is that after waiting nearly two years to see if the pain would go away, then finally coming to the decision that no, it wasn't going away, and was something I would have to deal with for the rest of my life, so yes, I would see a lawyer...what bugs me the most is that they don't get it. It's all about loss of income from my JOB. But there's no thought of compensation for the way the accident messed up my LIFE.

I am more than my temporary, part-time, two-year job.

I am a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom. That has been my life since my firstborn entered the world in 1975. OVER THIRTY YEARS, people. And that is what is important to me. And that is what has been messed up, big time.

I think I need to contact the Human Rights Commission. Don't I have the right to value my life at home? After all, it's been my life's work. And the fact that it has been messed up to the point where I haven't done a good job of teaching my kids or maintaining my home since the accident should matter.

It matters to ME.

Sunday, December 6, 2009


You know what bugs me??

When I do dishes for .. lets say, three hours. Everything is clean. Sparkling, even.

And then.

I make supper. We eat, and rush out the door.

The next day, I wake up to a messy kitchen. But wait! I can't clean it, since we're heading out the door yet again. And even though I know it needs to be cleaned... the baby needs to be fed, kids bathed/brushed/dressed, because we're leaving again. So, I rush out the door and tell myself I'll get to it later.

After about the fourth meal, I don't have a clean pot left, and the kitchen is a disaster again. *Sigh*

And the worst part is?

I wasn't even home to enjoy it when it was clean.

I hate weeks like that.